


the atlantic was born today

by nightswatch



Series: transatlanticism [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Internet Friends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire lives in New York. Enjolras lives in Paris. Things are a little complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the atlantic was born today

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the amazingly talented [michellicopter](http://michellicopter.tumblr.com/) who drew this cute lil thing [here](http://michellicopter.tumblr.com/post/79705307030/give-me-fic-where-enjolras-and-grantaire-meet).
> 
> This fic was supposed to be a lot shorter than it eventually turned out to be.

Grantaire couldn’t remember how he’d found Enjolras’ blog. Not because it had been so long ago or because it had been some insignificant coincidence, but because it had just been open on his laptop one morning.

He remembered playing a gig in a pub that had been the size of his living room. He remembered the audience being delightfully enthusiastic. He remembered some of the audience members buying him drinks. He remembered a few shots of tequila. And that was it.

After he’d managed to crawl out of bed, taken a shower and had found some cold pizza in the kitchen, he’d returned to his room, since there was no trace of his roommate Jehan anywhere and he didn’t feel like talking to anyone anyway. He felt like he might throw up if he opened his mouth for any other purpose than stuffing greasy food inside.

Grantaire flopped down on his bed and grabbed for his laptop, which he’d left on the floor next to his bed, just to check his facebook page to see if there were any comments concerning yesterday’s show. Yes, he occasionally allowed himself to be that vain. He’d once told Jehan, who was quite possibly his most enthusiastic fan, that people telling him they liked his music were his only source of self esteem. He’d said it jokingly, but there’d been a little too much truth behind it.

When he opened the lid of his laptop to turn it on, it immediately flickered to life, some kid’s blog open on the screen. He must have been looking at it last night before he’d passed out. For what reason he did not know, but there it was.

The blog belonged to Enjolras, 20, from Paris, and was mostly filled with idealistic bullshit – luckily in English, because the little French his grandfather had taught him wouldn’t have got him very far. And sure, Grantaire was aware that this guy lived halfway across the world, but it was still the same shitty world and whatever attempt he made to change it would be as futile there as anywhere else.

Grantaire wasn’t even surprised to find that he’d already started composing a comment, but had left off midsentence. He quickly corrected all the mistakes he’d made when his fingers had hit the wrong keys, but he was quite proud of what his drunken mind had come up with. He smirked, and hit _send_.

* * *

Enjolras wasn’t obsessed with his blog, no matter what Courfeyrac might say, he just cared a lot about the response they were getting, because sure, technically it was his blog, but he mainly made posts about their group’s events and the issues they were trying to tackle, so it was important. It was _their_ blog.

And every now and then some idiot came along to tell him that everything they were doing was good for nothing anyway or that no one would take a bunch of students seriously and Enjolras loved nothing more than setting those people right.

Combeferre sometimes joked that his replies had novel-length, but once Enjolras had started, it was hard for him to stop. And most of the time his replies were sufficient to silence those smartasses who really needed someone to tell them to get off their high cynical horse.

Enjolras sat back with a satisfied smile, which quickly crumbled when he received a reply ten minutes later.

This guy – he called himself R and his account didn’t give away much, only that he was male and from the USA – was making fun of him. He was taunting him. And he’d even had the audacity to correct his grammar. Enjolras slammed his laptop shut and stomped off down the hall to rant to Combeferre.

When he returned to his room he felt calm and ready to write an articulate reply.

He had seven private chat messages waiting for him, one of them from Courfeyrac’s friend Marius, who’d been coming along to some of their meetings recently, telling him he couldn’t wait for the next one on Wednesday, which was about as unnecessary as it got.

The other six messages were from that R guy following up to what he’d said before.

_R: anyway you didn’t really read what I said did you_

_R: i didn’t say it wasn’t an important thing to do_

_R: i just said you were deluded if you thought it’d do any good_

_R: my roommate just whacked me over the head with a book_

_R: he wants me to stop being a dick to you_

_R: so excusez-moi for being a dick_

Enjolras caught himself smiling and groaned. This wasn’t funny. This guy was obnoxious and Enjolras had just spent an hour pacing up and down in Combeferre’s room, telling his friend how much he hated people like this R person.

_You: I hope your roommate didn’t give you a concussion._

The answer came almost immediately.

_R: nah man my head’s all fine_

_R: i wasn’t backing down by the way i still think you’re an idealistic ass_

_R: but hey i wish you the best of luck with your stuff and all_

Enjolras frowned. This guy had some nerve.

_You: Thank you ever so much._

_R: wow we’re being passive-aggressive now how delightful_

It was a miracle that Enjolras didn’t break his keyboard when he furiously composed a reply.

* * *

Grantaire was having a blast. This Enjolras dude was fucking gold. Grantaire had taken it down a notch after Jehan had appeared behind him and asked him what the fuck he was doing, pissing off people he didn’t even know, but they were still arguing and had been for hours.

The sun had set about an hour ago, Grantaire had eaten the rest of the pizza and a bowl of ramen noodles, but had been glued to his laptop for the rest of the day, wrapped up in his duvet while snowflakes settled on his windowsill.

Jehan had come to check on him about an hour ago, because he’d been “suspiciously quiet”, shaking his head when he’d found him exactly where he’d left him hours earlier.

Grantaire checked his alarm clock with a sigh. He had to be at the club in about half an hour and if he took off soon he’d make it on time and he wouldn’t even have to take a cab. He didn’t really have the money and traffic would be horrible in this weather anyway.

_You: sorry man as much as i’d love to continue this wonderful discussion i have to go to work_

_You: anyway you should go to bed_

_You: what time is it there anyway_

_You: probably past midnight right_

_You: go to sleep_

_Enjolras: Thanks for your concern, but I’m fully capable of estimating when it is a good time for me to go to sleep. And yes, it’s half past one here._

Grantaire grinned and started pulling on his boots and his coat, which he’d probably freeze to death in. He’d meant to get a parka, but then they’d had to have their oven fixed. Being able to prepare food was decidedly more important.

When he went to shut down his laptop, there was another message from Enjolras waiting for him.

_Enjolras: Where are you from, by the way? I promise I won’t come there to argue with you in person. I’m just curious._

_You: go the fuck to bed enjolras_

_You: i’ll tell you in the morning_

* * *

Enjolras rolled his eyes. He’d been doing that a lot during the last couple of hours. Everything R said was positively eye roll inducing.

He stared at the last message R had sent for a long while, wondering if he might say something else, but eventually relented and went to bed. He spent the next hour or so staring into the darkness, trying to figure out whether he was still angry or actually somewhat intrigued. If there was one thing that had surprised him about R it was that he actually knew what he was talking about, but still managed to think any effort was futile.

In the morning he immediately checked his messages. There was nothing. Then again, R was probably still asleep, since Enjolras was at least six hours ahead of him. Enjolras left his laptop on, just in case, then he went to the kitchen, where he found Combeferre, wide awake, reading the paper.

Enjolras was halfway through his second cup of coffee when the door opened and Courfeyrac came stumbling inside, his cheeks flushed and his clothes in disarray. “You’re both awake,” he said, looking a little confused. “It’s Sunday morning.”

Combeferre raised his eyebrows. “I’m always up when you come home.”

Courfeyrac’s cheeks somehow turned even redder. “But Enjolras isn’t,” he spluttered.

“I’m waiting for a…” He paused, shrugging. “Message.”

“From the guy you were arguing with yesterday?” Combeferre asked, lips twitching. “You’re still not done educating him?”

“He proves to be a rather frustrating case,” Enjolras muttered.

“What guy?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Someone left a comment on my blog,” Enjolras said. “They were wrong about some things.”

Courfeyrac snorted. “Ah, you and your precious blog.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras grumbled and threw a piece of croissant at him. “You still haven’t given me the pictures from the bake sale.”

“Later. I’m going to bed now,” Courfeyrac said and turned around, stalking off to his room.

Enjolras, too, returned to his room and did find a couple of messages waiting for him.

_R: i’m from new york_

_R: happy now_

_R: are you even awake yet_

_R: probably not_

_R: no sane person would be up this early on a sunday morning_

Couldn’t this guy just put it all in one message?

_You: Don’t you have punctuation in America?_

_R: oh god you ARE awake_

_You: So are you and it’s the middle of the night for you._

_R: well i just got back from work_

_R: what’s your excuse_

Well, he could hardly say that he’d been too excited to see if he had any messages to stay in bed.

_You: I don’t like sleeping in._

A blatant lie, but how would R know?

_R: …_

_R: i don’t think i can talk to you anymore_

_You: I came to that conclusion about twelve hours ago when you said that protests are no good because all we get from them is negative press._

_R: well it’s true_

_R: you protest_

_R: something goes wrong_

_R: you get the picture_

_R: anyway why are you still talking to me then_

_R: is it because i’m so incredibly charming_

Enjolras didn’t answer. Why _was_ he still talking to him? Truth be told – he sort of liked this guy. Even though he was an obnoxious prat.

_R: enjolras_

_R: did you fall off your chair_

_R: it’s okay a lot of people can’t handle my wit_

_R: and my good looks_

_R: you’re lucky you can’t see me you probably wouldn’t be able to deal with it_

_You: Have I told you how incredibly annoying you are???_

_R: three questions marks you must be serious_

_R: well_

_R: i won’t annoy you any longer_

_R: i’m off to bed_

_R: my shift at the café starts at 10 and i don’t want to show up for work looking like a zombie again_

And then R was gone and Enjolras did definitely not spend all day in front of his laptop, waiting for him to come back again.

* * *

Grantaire liked his job at the café. It was just around the corner from his and Jehan’s apartment and he always got to take home leftover food if he was on the last shift of the day. Even with his two jobs and the occasional gigs he played he struggled to have enough money left for anything but the bare necessities.

He’d been trying to save up enough to record a few demos for years now, but he always ended up spending it on something more important.

When Jehan’s parents had cut him off it had been up to Grantaire to pay the rent for a couple of months until Jehan had found another job – one that actually paid more than Grantaire’s two jobs combined.

He’d happily done so, but the money that Jehan had paid him back had served some other purpose as well. Grantaire couldn’t even remember what he’d spent it on.

Grantaire came home to an empty apartment, but found a note from Jehan, saying that he’d gone out on a walk, so Grantaire decided to go back to bed to sleep for a couple of hours until he had to go back to the club.

* * *

“Whatcha doing?” Courfeyrac asked, peering over Enjolras’ shoulder at his laptop screen. “Updating the blog?”

Enjolras quickly closed the chat window he’d had open ever since he’d got back home from his morning lecture. He’d meant to do things, instead he’d spent all of his time wondering what he could possibly say to R.

Enjolras cleared his throat. “I would if you managed to send me those bake sale photos.”

“I sent them to you earlier, didn’t you get the email?”

“Oh,” Enjolras whispered. He’d somehow forgot to check his email after he’d got home. “Thank you.”

He busied himself with picking photos to put on his blog, mind still wandering back to R. Eventually he pulled up the chat window again, staring at the blinking cursor.

_You: So… are you still alive?_

The answer came about thirty minutes later, after which Enjolras had uploaded Courfeyrac’s photo and had written a little summary of what the proceeds of their bake sale would be used for.

_R: i’m laughing at you_

_R: a lot_

_R: of course I’m still alive_

_You: I’m glad to hear that._

_R: you know_

_R: after seeing all those pics_

_R: i’m curious_

_R: which one of those guys are you_

Enjolras smiled. For what reason he didn’t know, but he was smiling and it was all R’s fault.

_You: What do you think?_

_R: well the guy with the curly hair looks like he’s fun_

_R: so that’s definitely not you_

_R: so you’re either glasses guy or hot blondie_

Enjolras started at the message R had just sent, feeling his cheeks turn flaming red. A complete stranger had just called him hot, not even knowing that it was him and he wasn’t quite sure to react.

_R: please tell me you’re glasses guy_

_R: because if you’re not_

_R: i just called you hot_

_You: I’m not “glasses guy”. That’s my friend Combeferre. The other one is Courfeyrac._

_R: okay this is awkward_

_R: let’s forget this happened okay_

_You: Yes, we can do that._

It was just that Enjolras found it quite hard to forget about it.

* * *

On some days Grantaire wanted to punch himself in the face.

Today was one of those days.

* * *

It took Enjolras about a week to find out that R’s name was actually Grantaire. He did not laugh at that god-awful pun.

Grantaire told him that his great-grandfather had been from France and had taught him a little French when he was little and from that point on Enjolras kept trying to get Grantaire to talk to him in French, just so he could get back at him for correcting his grammar, but every time Enjolras sent him a message in French, Grantaire would persistently answer in English, although it was quite obvious that he’d understood every word of what Enjolras had said.

It also didn’t take long for him to try to find Grantaire on facebook. He was just a bit curious and wanted to know what the guy he was talking to actually looked like and that was when he came across the facebook page of a musician from Brooklyn, NY, who called himself R.

_You: You never told me you were a musician._

Grantaire didn’t answer until later on. It was Thursday, afternoon for Grantaire, which meant that he was working his shift at the café.

Enjolras didn’t question why he already knew Grantaire’s schedule after only a couple of weeks of knowing him. If he could even say that he _knew_ him. They were basically strangers chatting about anything and everything, with a couple of arguments strewn in between.

Considering Grantaire’s point of view had actually helped Enjolras to refine his own arguments and he’d found that there was basically nothing Grantaire didn’t know at least a little something about.

_R: did you fucking google me_

_You: I was curious. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have._

_R: it’s fine it’s not like it’s a secret_

_R: anyway I’m not a very good musician_

_R: it just play some gigs here and there_

_R: nothing special_

_You: I’d love to hear you play._

_R: there are videos on youtube jehan basically spends all of his time at my gigs making videos and taking pictures_

_R: he’s the embarrassing parent I never had_

_R: I mean_

_R: my parents were embarrassing_

_R: just in a different and more fucked up way_

_R: but you don’t want to hear about my parents_

_R: so yeah_

Enjolras didn’t say that he would have loved to hear about Grantaire’s parents. Grantaire could have told him anything and Enjolras would have listened. Grantaire did the same thing for him. Once Enjolras had ranted about one of his university professors for nearly an hour and Grantaire had read all of it patiently, his answers almost as long as Enjolras’ complaints.

* * *

Grantaire didn’t really know what he was doing, talking to Enjolras on a daily basis, except for the days when the just somehow missed each other, because Grantaire had stayed at work a little longer and Enjolras had been holed up at the library.

He’d got used to it so quickly and somehow checking his messages had become the first thing he did when he woke up in the morning and when he got back from work.

He was almost sad when Enjolras told him that he’d have to go to his parents’ for the weekend because it was his mother’s birthday and he had to attend a family dinner. He hadn’t seemed too happy about it, and Grantaire got that, really, if there was one person who knew more than enough about family issues, it was him.

It was out of habit that he checked his messages after he’d got home from work that weekend. It was nearly 4 AM and he was ready to go to bed and sleep for about two days, which obviously wouldn’t be possible because he had to be at the café six hours from now.

He forgot all about it when he found a few messages waiting for him.

_Enjolras: My parents are horrible, horrible people._

Enjolras: I just really need someone to rant to and Combeferre isn’t answering his phone and Courfeyrac is probably still asleep and you’re sometimes awake in the middle of the night, God knows why, so I thought I might as well try.

_Enjolras: I just remembered that you’re probably still at work_

_Enjolras: Sorry for bothering you_

_Enjolras: Just go to bed if you happen to read this in the middle of the night_

Grantaire would have very much liked to oblige and go to bed, but he couldn’t just ignore this.

_You: i’m here_

_You: your lack of punctuation is worrying_

_You: tell me what’s wrong_

_Enjolras: Coming here was a bad idea. I’m hiding in my room, because I don’t want to face my parents. It’s pathetic._

Grantaire swallowed hard. Jehan had sometimes talked like this, when he’d still seen his parents every now and then and back then Grantaire had hugged him and told him to just stop, because Jehan was such a wonderful person and he’d hated what his parents had done to him, he’d hated that they’d made him believe that he was nothing but a disappointment.

The problem was that Enjolras was a little too far away to hug. It was so much easier to talk about such things when you could actually see and hear the other person.

He hummed and typed out another message. It was worth a try.

_You: do you have a skype account_

_Enjolras: I do._

_You: give me your username_

The first thing Enjolras said to him when Grantaire had eventually managed to remember his Skype password and called Enjolras was, “You really don’t have to do this.”

Grantaire had so much trouble trying not to burst out laughing. With Enjolras’ usually meticulous grammar and spelling and impressively extensive vocabulary he’d totally forgotten that he was actually French. And Grantaire hadn’t meant an undignified snort to escape him, but Enjolras’ accent was _hilarious_.

“It’s fine,” Grantaire managed, trying to focus. It was just that that didn’t help at all, because Enjolras was downright ethereal. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a complete mess, blond curls tumbling loosely down slumped shoulders, blue eyes defiant, but also much too sad for Grantaire’s liking.

The picture was a little fuzzy, but yes, this was definitely the guy from the pictures he’d seen, and he almost took Grantaire’s breath away.

“Why were you laughing?” Enjolras asked, when Grantaire was still busy with awkwardly staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” Grantaire choked out, “but your accent is adorable.”

Enjolras’ eyes narrowed. “It is not adorable.”

“It is,” Grantaire said, struggling with keeping his expression serious. He’d have to make sure not to wake up Jehan. “Now tell me what happened.” He grabbed his laptop and made his way over to his bed. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna make sure I don’t freeze to death.”

“Your room looks cozy,” Enjolras said, smiling smugly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. His room was a fucking mess and he knew it. Everyone knew it. Now Enjolras knew, too. “It _is_ cozy.”

Enjolras chuckled and then proceeded to just smile at Grantaire for a good five minutes, Grantaire smiling back, not sure what to say.

After a while Enjolras sat up a little straighter and sighed. “Thanks for this.”

“For sitting here and grinning like an idiot? Anytime.”

“No, I meant… well, yes that, too, but… I basically have a reason to hide now.”

“Yeah, why _are_ you hiding?”

“Dinner wasn’t great last night,” Enjolras said lowly. “Breakfast was even worse. I don’t even know why I came here, it’s the same thing every time. My father tells me he’s embarrassed that he has to call me his son and my mother sits next to him and says nothing.”

“But… you do all those great things and you’re so smart and everything,” Grantaire said. He didn’t understand. Enjolras was like a poster child that every parent would love to have. “They should be proud of you.”

Enjolras shook his head. “I don’t only participate in bake sales, Grantaire.”

Grantaire felt like he was having a bit of a heart attack when Enjolras said his name. It sounded the way it was supposed to sound, like his French ancestors had pronounced it, not the mingle Americans made of it. “Still, you’re… cool,” he finished lamely.

“They don’t like that I organize protests,” Enjolras said, his voice almost a whisper, “they don’t like it when their friends read about it in the papers, they don’t like that I rally against people like them. Most of all they don’t like that I’m gay.”

Grantaire startled at that. “You are?”

“Does it matter?” Enjolras said, looking almost offended.

“No, no, of course not,” Grantaire said quickly. “I mean, I get that, my parents weren’t happy when they caught me with a guy either.” In fact his dad had threatened to throw him out of the house if it ever happened again. He’d been more careful from then on and had only brought home girls.

Enjolras nodded. “I see. Anyway, my father keeps threatening to cut me off. If I want to stay in all the classes I’m in right now and if I want to keep volunteering and all that, I don’t really have the time to find a job. I don’t think he’d really do it, because it would be even more of a scandal if his friends found out about it, but…” He shrugged helplessly.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “You sure have a hard life.”

Enjolras looked like Grantaire had hit him in the face.

“Shit, sorry, that came out all wrong” Grantaire said, “it’s just, my roommate was cut off by his parents, and not just financially, and he managed. He’s doing just fine. What I’m trying to say is, even if it happens, it might seem like the end of the world, but you’ll pull through. I believe in you.”

A smile tugged at Enjolras’ lips. “You do?”

“Absolutely.” Grantaire wasn’t quite sure where that had come from, but once he thought about it, he realized that he hadn’t just said it to make Enjolras feel better. He _did_ believe in him.

“I listened to your music, by the way,” Enjolras said. “It’s very good. You should play something for me sometime.”

“I totally will, just not right now, because it’s five in the morning and my neighbor would probably come to lynch me if I did.”

“Oh no, I forgot, you have to be at work in…” Enjolras looked absolutely horrified. “Five hours?”

“You’re better at math than I am,” Grantaire said, smiling lazily. “Don’t worry, I’ve gotten less sleep on several occasions.”

“Still, I feel terrible for keeping you up,” Enjolras muttered. “You should go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Grantaire asked, not even hiding the yawn that followed. “I mean, you still look a bit upset.”

“I’m okay, thank you,” Enjolras said. “Sleep well.”

“Au revoir, Enjolras,” Grantaire said, grinning as he hit _end call_.

* * *

Enjolras was sitting frozen in front of his laptop. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when Grantaire had called him. He’d known what he looked like, but he’d also known what he usually talked like.

Grantaire was blunt, and he had been now, but he’d also been strangely gentle, and it somehow caught him completely off guard.

On the whole train ride back to Paris, Grantaire was the only thing on his mind.

* * *

Grantaire was sitting on Jehan’s cushy old leather sofa after he’d returned from work, waiting for Jehan himself to get home. He was late and Grantaire just really, really needed someone to talk to. He felt like he was about to explode.

He jumped up the second he heard the door open, almost running straight into Jehan’s arms.

“Dude,” Grantaire said gravely, “I am so, so fucked.”

* * *

Enjolras wasn’t worried. Except that he was.

Obviously Grantaire had no obligation to tell him what he was doing or what was going on in his life or when he’d leave town.

But now that he hadn’t answered any of Enjolras’ messages for three days straight, he was starting to feel a little restless. Of course it was possible that Grantaire might just not want to talk to him anymore for whatever reason. Maybe because he thought that Enjolras was a bratty rich boy and completely pathetic on top of that and had decided to just ignore him. The thought alone made Enjolras feel incredibly empty.

“Something wrong?” Combeferre asked him during dinner.

Enjolras was aware that he’d barely spoken a word all evening, he should have known that his friends would be concerned.

Courfeyrac nudged him gently. “Spit it out.”

“I’m just a little worried about Grantaire, that’s all. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“That guy you met on the internet?” Combeferre asked. When he’d found out that Enjolras had made friends with the guy he’d been ranting about, he’d been amused at first. A lecture about talking to strangers on the internet had followed suit, Courfeyrac quietly laughing as he’d listened in.

Enjolras nodded. “He hasn’t replied in a couple of days.”

“Do you have any other contact information?” Courfeyrac asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Not really,” Enjolras mumbled. There was contact information on Grantaire’s facebook page, but Enjolras didn’t want to scare Grantaire off, because really, he probably was out of town and hadn’t mentioned it to Enjolras. Anyway, why would he? Sure, they were friends, or at least Enjolras considered them friends after talking to him constantly for months, but still.

Enjolras didn’t sleep well that night.

In the morning, however, there was a string of messages in his inbox.

_R: shit enjolras i’m sorry_

_R: i fucked up_

_R: i’m really sorry_

_R: are you there_

_R: i get that you’re probably mad_

_R: please don’t hate me_

_R: god I’m such a fuck up_

The last message was from ten minutes ago.

_You: Of course I’m not mad. I was just worried. Did something happen?_

_R: shit i’m so sorry_

_R: you were worried about me_

_R: i’m a horrible person_

_You: You’re not, please don’t say that._

_R: if you knew me you wouldn’t say that_

_R: shit you’d probably hate me if you ever actually met me_

_R: i’m so so so sorry_

_R: my laptop broke don’t ask me what happened it’s just really old maybe that was it_

_R: anyway i was so busy and i had so much work to do_

_R: and i played a show last night_

_R: anyway jehan fixed it he’s some kind of fucking laptop wunderkind_

_R: how are you_

_You: I’m alright. And I’m glad you haven’t decided to just disappear from my life forever._

_R: dude don’t be ridiculous_

_R: you know what_

_R: i’ll give you my number then you can just text me next time_

_R: is that okay_

Enjolras couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

_You: Thank you :-)_

_R: wow that smiley face freaks me out_

_You: Why?_

_R: no reason :-)_

_You: Okay, I get what you mean._

* * *

It didn’t take long until Enjolras first sent him a text, an actual text, about something incredibly stupid that made Grantaire smile like an idiot anyway.

He was in so much trouble.

_To Enjolras: you can’t just send me texts like this do you have any idea how expensive that is_

_From Enjolras: I didn’t know that. I’ll talk to you later, okay?_

_To Enjolras: just get whatsapp you idiot_

_From Enjolras: What is that?_

Grantaire couldn’t believe this was happening. And he couldn’t believe he was actually willing to spend money on this.

_To Enjolras: ask your friends i’m sure someone will know it_

_From Enjolras: Okay, I will!_

The next day Grantaire got a WhatsApp message from Enjolras.

_Enjolras: Courfeyrac helped me, it works now._

Which was followed by a picture of Enjolras and his friend Courfeyrac, whom Grantaire had already seen before on the pictures on Enjolras’ blog, both of them smiling broadly.

_Enjolras: Courf says hi._

_You: you guys make my heart melt_

Enjolras seemed to take a special liking in sending him pictures from then on and Grantaire received one at least once a day. Maybe he should tell Enjolras to get Instagram instead. Sometimes he got a picture of the essay Enjolras was writing, sometimes it was what he was having for dinner, always cooked by someone else, because apparently Enjolras was the worst cook on earth, sometimes it was him and Courfeyrac making silly faces, every now and then Combeferre made an appearance as well.

Grantaire hardly ever sent any pictures back; there was nothing he deemed worthy, nothing that seemed interesting enough. One time he took one of the Brooklyn Bridge and sent it to Enjolras saying _proof that I didn’t lie about living in ny_.

Enjolras sent back one of himself in front of the Eiffel Tower the next day. _I wasn’t lying about Paris either_.

_You: man i’ve always wanted to go to paris_

_Enjolras: You should. I’m sure Courfeyrac and Combeferre wouldn’t mind if you stayed on our couch for a bit._

_You: thanks for the offer_

_You: i just really don’t have the money for an international flight_

_You: i actually don’t even have the money for a domestic flight_

_You: if i ever win the lottery i’ll take you up on that offer though_

Enjolras’ answer was a smiley face.

Grantaire quickly pocketed his phone, since the break he was taking was already twice as long as it had meant to be and went back to selling coffee and cakes. Only for about ten minutes, though, because then his phone vibrated again.

Since there weren’t any customers around, he checked his messages.

_Enjolras: Did you go back to work? Because I really need your help. I really, really do._

_You: what’s wrong_

_Enjolras: I just went to get some coffee, because I still have an essay to finish and Combeferre and Courfeyrac are cuddling on the couch._

_You: i don’t see the problem_

_You: why aren’t they allowed to cuddle_

_You: i cuddle jehan all the time_

_You: he’s very cuddly even though he doesn’t look like he is_

He then had to turn his attention back to the counter, because a group of girls had walked in and Grantaire was busy making coffee for the next ten minutes.

When he checked his phone again, there were several new messages from Enjolras.

_Enjolras: They’re my two best friends. They’re not supposed to cuddle._

_Enjolras: Grantaire!!_

_Enjolras: Answer me!!!!_

_You: dude calm down sometimes people just cuddle_

_You: it’s not like you caught them fucking_

_Enjolras: That’s a mental image I really didn’t need._

_Enjolras: Anyway, Courf’s hand is under Ferre’s shirt, you can’t tell me that that’s friendly cuddling._

_You: so you don’t want your friends to be a thing is that the problem_

_Enjolras: No, I just don’t know what to do now??_

_You: wait until they tell you_

_You: if there’s anything to tell_

_You: i’ve had my hands under a lot of people’s shirts and it wasn’t a big deal_

_Enjolras: That’s not helpful._

_You: too bad_

_You: i’m still at work you know that right_

_You: i have to go_

_You: i’ll talk to you later if you’re still up_

_Enjolras: NO GRANTAIRE YOU CAN’T GO THIS IS A CRISIS!!!_

Grantaire snorted and put his phone on silent mode.

* * *

Two days later Enjolras still hadn’t really recovered from the whole Combeferre and Courfeyrac situation, which he still couldn’t really make sense of. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know what exactly was going on.

He could hear them laughing in the kitchen – both of them, even Combeferre, who hardly ever laughed out loud. Enjolras did realize that they’d been spending a lot of time together lately, then again, they always had, all three of them. He was starting to wonder what had changed and how he hadn’t noticed.

He was thinking about just going to bed, since it was nearly midnight, then the little Skype notification that told him that Grantaire was online popped up. He hit _call_ without thinking about it.

Grantaire’s face appeared seconds later, grinning at him. “Well, hello there,” he said.

Enjolras noticed that Grantaire wasn’t sitting in front of his laptop, but standing next to his bed looking down. “Is this a bad time? Are you busy?”

“A little, but I still have about half an hour, I’m just…” Grantaire paused, and bent down to pick something up. “I’m trying to find something to wear. Jehan set me up with some girl he met at a poetry reading and I’m taking her out to dinner and I don’t want to show up looking like a hobo.”

“You’re going out on a date?” Enjolras asked, belatedly realizing that he’d sounded a little too incredulous.

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, brow creasing.

Enjolras cleared his throat. “Oh, I… have fun?”

Grantaire snorted. “Thanks.” He tugged his fingers through his dark curls, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a second.”

He stood up and walked to his closet, digging through it, sending clothes flying everywhere until he seemed to find something suitable and tugged off his shirt. And maybe it was because Grantaire had been wearing long-sleeve shirts every time he’d seen him, but Grantaire had tattoos.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. Combeferre had tattoos, although they usually stayed hidden as well, a lot of people had tattoos. But Grantaire’s tattoos somehow made his mouth grow dry.

Grantaire returned to his laptop, buttoning up a black shirt, still smiling. “What do you think? She’s not gonna run away screaming, right?”

Enjolras made some sort of hysterical giggling noise. “No, absolutely not. You look… good. Great.”

Grantaire smirked. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” Enjolras said conversationally.

“Oh god, you saw that? I didn’t think my shitty webcam had such a wide angle.”

“Well, you know now.”

“Yeah, well, I should get going, but… it was nice talking to you.”

“Tell me how your date went.”

Grantaire smirked. “Yeah, sure.”

Enjolras felt strangely uneasy when he’d hung up.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Grantaire to have fun, he just didn’t like the thought of him going out with some girl for some reason.

Enjolras sighed, eyes still fixed on Grantaire’s profile picture, which showed Grantaire from the eyes upwards, his hair puffier than ever, trying to figure out why this bothered him so much.

He eventually just told himself that he didn’t matter and padded down the hall to the kitchen.

“Look who’s emerged from his lair,” Courfeyrac said and pulled Enjolras into a hug. “Were you talking to Grantaire?”

“Yeah, but he had to leave,” Enjolras mumbled resting his chin on Courfeyrac’s head. “What are you guys doing in the kitchen? It’s almost midnight.”

“We were just…” Combeferre looked at Courfeyrac for help.

“Talking,” Courfeyrac finished for him. “Combeferre said something about having cereal, we just never really got to the cereal part.”

Courfeyrac was a terrible liar, but Enjolras nodded anyway. He didn’t want to call him out on it right now. “Cereal sounds good,” he said instead.

“I’ll get you some,” Courfeyrac said cheerfully.

“So, what is Grantaire doing tonight? Don’t you usually talk for hours on Wednesday night?” Combeferre asked.

“Right, we do,” Enjolras said. He hadn’t even noticed that their Skype dates had become something regular. No, actually they weren’t dates. Grantaire was out on an actual date. “He’s meeting some girl.”

Courfeyrac turned around, looking at him sympathetically. “Oh, honey.”

“What?” Enjolras asked, frowning.

“You should see your face, you’re so jealous, it’s adorable,” Courfeyrac said, smiling sadly. “It’s okay, they’ll probably break up.”

Combeferre shot Courfeyrac his best _that was uncalled for_ look.

“I’m not jealous,” Enjolras said sternly.

“Are you sure about that?” Combeferre asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Because it did sound like you are _insanely_ jealous,” Courfeyrac added.

“Well, I’m not,” Enjolras said defensively, “I mean, he’s just some guy I met on the internet. Who lives halfway across the globe. Why would I be jealous?”

Courfeyrac patted him on the head. “Eat your cereal,” he said, handing him a bowl. “Just keep lying to yourself.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and marched off to the living room.

When Grantaire sent him a text at four in the morning, waking Enjolras up, telling him that his date had been an absolute disaster, he wasn’t sure if he was actually pleased or if his mind was playing some weird trick on him because he wasn’t quite awake.

* * *

Grantaire was furious. Not only had his gig been cancelled, no, his keyboard had apparently decided to break as well, so maybe his gig being cancelled wasn’t so bad after all.

Anyway, without the gig he didn’t really have the money to have his keyboard fixed.

Grantaire sighed and grabbed the piggybank Jehan had given to him. It was the one where he kept the money he’d saved up for his recording session. Well, he couldn’t really record anything if he didn’t even have a working keyboard.

He didn’t smash it just yet, but he’d definitely have to think about it.

Grantaire got himself a bottle of wine and crawled into bed. He kicked away the covers as far as possible, since it was still impossibly hot, even though the sun had set a while ago and he’d been hoping that the temperatures would at least drop a little bit.

Grantaire slowly sipped his wine and after a while he grabbed his phone and sent a text to Enjolras.

_You: i know you’re probably asleep_

_You: hell i wish i were_

_You: hasn’t been a great day_

_You: how are things across the pond_

To his immense surprise, Enjolras’ reply came about a minute later.

_Enjolras: What happened? My day hasn’t been great either, I’m sick and I was supposed to have lunch with a really important contact today. Combeferre went for me, but who wants to support a group whose leader can’t even make it to lunch because he managed to get the flu. In summer._

Attached to the message came a photo of a miserable-looking Enjolras, nose red, hair messier than Grantaire had ever seen it, cuddling a teddy bear.

_You: you’re so cute_

Grantaire bit his lip and put away the wine. He hadn’t meant to say that.

_You: especially the bear_

Now, that sounded better. Not as much like he was actually flirting with Enjolras.

_Enjolras: The bear belongs to Courfeyrac. He insisted. I feel like a giant blob of snot._

_Enjolras: Sorry that was probably too much information._

_You: nah it’s okay snotball_

_You: you should probably get some sleep though_

_Enjolras: I can’t sleep, because I can’t breathe._

_You: at least try_

_Enjolras: Are you trying to get rid of me?_

_You: not at all_

He was just about to fall asleep himself, his mind a little foggy from the wine, feeling completely exhausted. He’d done an extra shift at the club the night before, maybe that was why he was so tired.

_Enjolras: Good. Now tell me why you didn’t have a good day._

_You: a lot of things_

_You: work was shit_

_You: I’m tired as fuck_

_You: my gig next week got cancelled_

_You: my keyboard died on me_

_You: so I have to spend money I don’t really have on getting it fixed_

_You: just a lot off unpleasant stuff_

_Enjolras: I’m sorry all of that happened. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help._

_You: thanks_

_Enjolras: Maybe you were right. I should sleep. Is it okay if I call you tomorrow?_

_You: absolutely_

_You: sleep tight x_

Grantaire stared his phone, horrified, just barely refraining from throwing it across the room. That little x wasn’t supposed to be there. He was pretty sure that they knew what it meant in France. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened. Maybe his fingers had slipped, even though he prided himself with his ability of being able to text even when drunk out of his mind.

Enjolras’ reply came, a little delayed, but it came.

_Enjolras: You too. xx_

Grantaire felt like his heart was beating his way out of his ribcage. “Fuck.”

* * *

Enjolras definitely just hadn’t fought his way out of a pile of five blankets to run to Courfeyrac’s room to ask him for advice. Except that he had.

“Courf,” he’d said loudly, turned the lights on and jumped onto Courfeyrac’s bed, “I need your help.”

“What, what…” Courfeyrac had sat up, looking around in confusion.

“Help me,” Enjolras had whispered and handed Courfeyrac his phone. “What do I say?”

“Oh shit, I think I’m blind.”

Enjolras had crawled under Courfeyrac’s sheets, shivering despite the tropical temperatures in Courfeyrac’s room.

Courfeyrac had blinked a couple of times, then he’d grinned. “Adorable,” he’d cooed.

“What do I say?” Enjolras had croaked, cuddling up against Courfeyrac.

“Dude, you’re burning up,” Courfeyrac had muttered, wrapping an arm around him. “Well, you say _you too_ or something.”

“But what about the x? That’s a kiss, right? Do I send him a kiss back?”

“Do you want to?” Courfeyrac had asked, carding his fingers through Enjolras’ hair. “I’m just asking because you’re still pretending that you’re not ridiculously in love with this guy.”

Enjolras had sniffled, but hadn’t protested. “Of course I want to.”

Courfeyrac had sighed and had typed out a reply. _You too. xx_

“Why two?” Enjolras had asked.

“Because we’re French.”

* * *

“You do realize that we’ve been talking for nearly three hours, right?” Grantaire asked, smiling at Enjolras, who’d just returned with a plate full of food. “We can take a break so you can eat.”

“I’m fine eating right here,” Enjolras said and promptly dropped a piece of his sandwich.

Grantaire snorted. “You obviously are,” he muttered, watching as Enjolras devoured his sandwich. “Did I tell you, by the way, that I’m playing a show next Monday?”

“That’s great,” Enjolras said, voice muffled, “did you get a new keyboard?”

Grantaire’s old one had broken a second time and now he had to get a new one. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy about it. “Not yet. I’ll probably just take my guitar and hope that they’ll pay me enough that I can finally buy one.”

“You still haven’t played anything for me,” Enjolras said, wriggling his eyebrows.

“I did that one time, remember?”

“That was like half a song,” Enjolras grumbled. “I request a whole one.”

“When I get my keyboard back.” He wasn’t ready to face that kind of embarrassment right now, because Enjolras would tell him that he loved to hear him play and Grantaire would probably die. At least that was what had happened last time.

“Fine,” Enjolras said, sticking out his bottom lip.

“You’re so cute when you’re pouting,” Grantaire said teasingly.

“Shut up.” Enjolras pulled up his blanket to hide his beet red face. “It’s Thanksgiving in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Wow, that was so not smooth,” Grantaire said, “but yeah, Thanksgiving is in like five weeks. Halloween is first. It’s all very exciting.”

“Are you dressing up as anything?”

“Yeah, I’ll be wearing the same Harry Potter costume that I’ve been wearing for about five years, and before you ask, no, you can’t have a picture.”

“Please,” Enjolras said, leaning closer, “ _please_.”

“We’ll see,” Grantaire mumbled. “Maybe if I’m drunk enough.”

An hour later he, too, left to make himself something to eat. It was dinner for him, though. When he returned with a bowl full of pasta he found Enjolras curled up on his bed, obviously still with his laptop in front of him, but fast asleep.

Grantaire smiled, sat back down and watched Enjolras sleep for a little while as he finished his food, then he picked up a book and started to read.

“That book looks pretty battered,” Enjolras mumbled.

Grantaire nearly jumped out of his skin. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while.” Enjolras smiled. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You know why,” Grantaire answered, smirking.

“Was I being _cute_ again?” Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire stuck out his tongue at him. “Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to argue with you about this.”

“What a mature thing to do,” Grantaire said. They’d had enough arguments via Skype and they’d hung up on each other more than once, only to call each other again a few minutes later to apologize.

“Well, one of us has to act like an adult every now and then.”

Grantaire snorted. “And that’s obviously you.”

“Well, it’s certainly not you,” Enjolras said, suddenly looking up.

“Oh my god, are you still talking to Grantaire,” someone asked in French, then Courfeyrac appeared next to Enjolras. “Hey, Grantaire, what’s up?”

Grantaire waved at him and shrugged. “Not much.” It wasn’t the first time he was talking to Courfeyrac and he’d actually been waiting for him to appear. He liked Courfeyrac. Obviously he liked Combeferre, too, but he hardly ever showed up when he was talking to Enjolras.

“It’s a good thing you have Enjolras to keep you company,” Courfeyrac said and pinched Enjolras’ cheek. “He missed you a lot last weekend.”

Grantaire grinned, watching as Enjolras pulled his blanket right over his head. “Did he?”

“Oh yeah, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. I mean, obviously he talks about you all the time anyway, but he talked about you even more when you weren’t there.”

Grantaire had gone down to Philadelphia with Jehan for the weekend, because Jehan had been visiting some old friends and Grantaire had been overdue for a couple of days off, so he’d joined him. He hadn’t really had time to talk to Enjolras all weekend, except for the occasional text here and there, but he hadn’t realized that it had actually bothered Enjolras.

When Grantaire did nothing but grin stupidly at Courfeyrac’s comment, Courfeyrac laughed and got up again. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to be disgustingly sweet again. You should really think about coming to visit, Grantaire.”

And with that he was gone and Enjolras reappeared from under his blanket. “Don’t listen to him.”

“So, you didn’t miss me?” Grantaire asked, trying to look as hurt as possible.

“I did miss you,” Enjolras said quietly.

Grantaire felt an all too familiar tingle in his stomach that he tried to ignore as best as he could. There was _something_ between them, Grantaire was sure, and every time Enjolras looked at him almost fondly he felt like his heart was about to burst.

“I really wish I could come to Paris,” Grantaire said. Just to see him in person. To give him a hug maybe. He knew that nothing would seriously happen, no matter how many hours they spent talking, no matter the tension. Enjolras wouldn’t really fall for someone like him. Maybe he liked the idea of him, just the image of him, far away, but once they actually met it would wear off pretty quickly. “But maybe it’s for the best that I can’t.”

“Why?” Enjolras asked, frowning.

Grantaire shrugged. “Well, you don’t really know me.” Enjolras didn’t know about the drinking and the self-hate, the struggle to keep his head above water somehow.

“But that’s the point, I want to get to know you. Really.”

“You’d just be disappointed.”

“I wouldn’t be.”

“How would you know,” Grantaire spat. “Fuck, Enjolras, this is… this is so hard. Because you’re so important to me, and I’d hate for you to meet me one day and realize that I’m nothing but a stupid idiot who’ll never achieve anything.”

“Grantaire…” He could see Enjolras reaching out, but dropping his hand quickly.

Grantaire wiped at his cheeks, feeling pathetic for crying because of this. This day had been nothing but perfect and now he was ruining everything.

* * *

Enjolras was pretty sure that he’d never felt this helpless in his entire life. He’d done something wrong, he didn’t know what it had been, but he desperately wanted to make it right.

“Please don’t cry,” he said.

“I’m trying,” Grantaire mumbled, face buried in his hands.

“Good, because I can’t hug you from here,” Enjolras mumbled. He wanted nothing more than to hold him and tell him how wonderful he was until he finally believed him. He admired Grantaire so much, even though it had taken him a couple of weeks to get there, but he’d soon realized how much work Grantaire put into getting what he wanted.

Grantaire smiled weakly. “Sorry, I’m being stupid. It was a hard week. No, actually it was a hard month.”

“Don’t apologize, I understand.” Enjolras smiled. “Christmas time is coming up, you’ll probably have to listen to me complain about my parents for ages.” Complaining to Grantaire was remarkably easy, because he was such a good listener. Much like Combeferre. Whom he’d found curled up around Courfeyrac only three days ago. Again.

Enjolras had talked to him about it, about what was going with him and Courfeyrac. The answer had been a decided _nothing_. Enjolras was certain that there was more to it, but he’d promised himself not to push it, as hard as it was.

He had a feeling that they were just dancing around each other, neither of them willing to make a move, because they weren’t sure who the other would react.

But that didn’t mean that Enjolras missed the casual touches that weren’t casual at all, or the lingering looks, or the frequent cuddling, or the disappointed look on Combeferre’s face when Courfeyrac talked about some guy or girl he’d spent the previous night with.

He had half a mind of just locking them in a room together. Because they were both here. In the same place.

“You okay?” Grantaire asked. He was smiling again.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking… about Courf and Ferre.”

“Oh, did they finally get their shit together?”

Enjolras shook his head. “Not really. They’re just cuddling. A lot.”

“Well, cuddling is nice,” Grantaire said. “I wouldn’t blame them if I were you.”

“Yeah, it’s great when you have someone to cuddle,” Enjolras grumbled.

“You should find someone,” Grantaire mused.

“I already have, the problem is that he’s sitting in New York,” Enjolras muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on Grantaire.

He could see Grantaire take in a deep breath. “Maybe you should… come here.”

“I would if I could, believe me.” There must be some way of getting to New York, he could just ask his parents for the money, of course, but he really didn’t want to ask them for help.

He’d figure something out.

* * *

“Just wait one second, only one second,” Grantaire was saying, “I know you have to leave, but I promised to play you a song, do you have time for that?”

Enjolras’ eyes widened. “Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

Grantaire turned his laptop so it was facing his brand new keyboard. Jehan had chipped in as a Christmas present and he’d also got a Christmas bonus for his job at the café. “I just got it yesterday,” Grantaire told Enjolras, “so I didn’t have a lot of time to practice.”

Enjolras smiled. “Go on.”

Grantaire sat down at his keyboard, took a deep breath and started playing.

“ _The Atlantic was born today, and I’ll tell you how, the clouds above opened up and let it out_ …”

He was glad he didn’t have to look at Enjolras, because he wasn’t sure if he could go on playing if he could see his face right now.

He kept singing, his voice wasn’t cracking, which was a small victory, considering how much his hands wanted to shake.

“ _I need you so much closer_ …”

This song had been a bad choice.

But it said all the things Grantaire couldn’t say. He’d always been better at pouring his feelings into songs than bluntly talking about them.

“ _I need you so much closer_ …”

He didn’t finish the song, because his trembling fingers eventually got the best of him.

Grantaire finally looked up and returned to his desk.

Enjolras was completely silent, wet streaks on his cheeks, biting his lip.

“Was it that bad?” Grantaire asked, his voice shaky.

“No, god no, it was beautiful.”

Grantaire smiled. This was probably the best Christmas present he’d got this year. Maybe it was the best one he’d ever got.

He spent Christmas with Jehan, as always, they holed up in their living room, baked Christmas cookies, watched all their favorite Christmas movies and drank way too much eggnog. It was a good Christmas, as Christmasses with Jehan always were, but he did check his phone a lot more frequently than usual, hoping Enjolras was doing alright.

He hardly heard from him, but at least he kept reassuring him that he hadn’t murdered his parents yet, even though he sure felt like it.

It wasn’t until New Year’s Eve that they had a proper conversation. Well, as proper as it got with how drunk Grantaire was.

_Enjolras: Happy New Year! I know you still have six hours to go, but Courfeyrac and Combeferre are kissing and I needed something to do to keep myself from looking at them._

_You: how are you still using punctuationmnn_

_You: sorry i slipped_

_You: but yay finally it took them long enough_

_You: didn’t find anyone to kiss huh_

_Enjolras: Are you drunk already?_

_You: whenever am i not_

_Enjolras: And no, there’s no one here I’d like to kiss. Unless you fancy coming over here._

_You: did you really just say that_

_You: wait i have to take a screenshot_

_Enjolras: You’re ridiculous._

_You: that’s not exactly news_

_Enjolras: They’re still kissing._

_You: leave them be_

_Enjolras: I AM leaving them be. How long do you think it’s going to take for them to stop?_

_You: oh my god enjolras_

_You: just get a drink_

_You: relax_

_You: they might be at it for a little while longer_

_Enjolras: Are you sure you can’t quickly fly over here?_

_You: stop it_

_Enjolras: Sorry._

_You: no i changed my mind don’t stop_

_Enjolras: I really do wish I could kiss you, just in case you think I was kidding. I was perfectly serious._

_You: shit_

_You: i think i’ll have to swim to paris_

_Enjolras: I’ll get out a towel for you._

_You: idiot_

_You: and i say that fondly_

“Grantaire, how long until you’re done grinning stupidly at your phone?” Jehan asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Just a second,” Grantaire mumbled.

_You: i have to go_

_You: jehan and i are having dinner at our fave diner_

_Enjolras: Have fun. Call me tomorrow? x_

_You: i will_

_You: xxxx_

* * *

Enjolras didn’t know what was worse – talking to Grantaire and wanting him to be there or not talking to Grantaire and wanting him to be there.

He wasn’t sure at what point it had got so bad. Maybe it was since he only had to step out of his room to find his two best friends making out. He was happy for them. Of course he was. But he was jealous, too. Not of them, but because Grantaire wasn’t here.

He checked his emails again, as he had so often during the last couple of days. He’d been looking into summer internships in New York and he’d found one at a charity organization that had been to his liking. Now he was anxiously waiting for a reply.

But again, there was nothing, just a notification that he had a new message on his blog.

It was from Grantaire.

_R: happy anniversary_

_You: I can’t believe you remembered._

_R: i can’t believe it’s been a year_

_You: I know. I’m glad you decided to be a complete asshole on my blog._

_R: anytime :)_

* * *

_Enjolras: If I came to New York this summer, do you think I could sleep on your couch?_

Grantaire stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk. He was feeling a lot of things at the same time, he wasn’t quite sure what to concentrate on.

Two days ago he’d woken up in the middle of the night after dreaming that Enjolras had been here in New York with him. He often dreamt of Enjolras, and sometimes not in an entirely innocent way. And now Enjolras might actually come here.

He felt strangely light-headed.

_You: what_

_You: WHAT_

_Enjolras: That doesn’t really answer my question._

_You: OF COURSE YOU CAN SLEEP ON MY FUCKING COUCH YOU COMPLETE IDIOT WHY DO YOU EVEN ASK_

He could sleep in his bed, too, but he felt that right now might not be the best moment to mention that.

_Enjolras: My internship starts on June 16th.  I thought I could fly in a couple of days earlier, would that be okay?_

Deep breaths, Grantaire told himself.

_You: oh my god this is really happening_

_You: how long are you staying_

_You: oh my god_

_You: enjolras_

_You: i think i’m freaking out a bit_

_Enjolras: I’ll be staying for two months. I can find another place to stay if that’s too long. I don’t want to get on your nerves. Anyway, I can’t wait to see you._

_You: stay as long as you want_

_You: i’m serious stay forever_

_You: and you probably will get on my nerves_

_You: let’s be real_

_You: i’ll get on your nerves too_

_You: it’ll be great_

* * *

“I’m really doing this,” Enjolras said lowly. He was terrified. Not only because he had to spend around eight hours in a metal container high above the Atlantic Ocean.

“You are,” Combeferre said, smiling softly, “and it’ll be fine.”

“What if he hates me,” Enjolras whispered. “What if I get there and he just can’t stand me.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.” Combeferre gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’m more scared that you might not come back after those two months.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Enjolras said and nudged him. “Of course I’ll come back.”

“Let us know when you’re there.”

Enjolras nodded. “Have a good summer. And have fun with Courfeyrac.”

They hugged, neither of them cried, unlike Courfeyrac who’d spent the previous evening trying to convince Enjolras not to go, obviously only half serious, but still shedding a tear or two.

Enjolras was sad because he couldn’t make it to the airport, because he, too, was doing an internship, but in Paris, and had left the house together with Combeferre and Enjolras and his massive suitcase. It probably was a good thing that Courfeyrac wasn’t here, though, because he surely would have made Enjolras cry. He and Combeferre, however, had some kind of silent agreement not to make a big deal out of this.

He waved at Combeferre one last time, then he walked towards check-in.

* * *

Grantaire was two hours early.

Grantaire was also hyper due to the three cups of coffee he’d had since he’d arrived at the airport.

On top of that he felt as nervous as never before in his life.

Jehan had offered to come with him. Grantaire had declined. He could do this. He could pick up Enjolras from the airport without having a fucking breakdown. Or so he’d thought.

He was sitting on a bench in view of the big departures board, tapping his foot restlessly.

He’d imagined meeting Enjolras a thousand times, but this was the real thing, this was really happening. Grantaire looked up at the board again, waiting for _Paris (CDG) – on time_ to change to _Paris (CDG) – landed_.

When it did happen, Grantaire jumped to his feet, nearly spilling the remnants of his fourth coffee.

He walked towards the arrivals gate, knowing full well that Enjolras would have to get off the plane first, and go through passport control, and then he’d have to get his bags, and _then_ he’d come walking through this stupid gate.

It took excruciatingly long for Enjolras’ blond head to appear, but when it did, Grantaire had to try very hard not to start running. Enjolras was towering over everyone, so it was easy for him to spot Grantaire amidst all the other people waiting in front of the gate.

Enjolras stopped when he saw him, then he smiled and didn’t resume walking towards him until Grantaire had smiled back at him.

Grantaire looked up at him, his face already hurting a little because he was smiling so much. “You’re really fucking tall.”

Enjolras laughed, wrapped his arms around him and kissed him. It was just a quick press of lips, over before Grantaire could even begin to enjoy it.

Still, Grantaire was in heaven. “Hi,” he said, fingers digging into the lapels of Enjolras’ red blazer.

“Hello,” Enjolras mumbled and kissed him on the forehead.

“You’re here.” Grantaire stood on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Enjolras’ jaw.

Enjolras kissed him on the nose in return. “I am.”

“And you kissed me.” This was happening. This was really happening. He wasn’t dreaming. _This was real_.

Enjolras chuckled. It was the most adorable sound Grantaire had ever heard. “I did.”

“Do it again?” Grantaire asked, beaming up at him.

Enjolras did, gently nipping at Grantaire’s bottom lip before deepening the kiss. Grantaire wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to let go of Enjolras again.

He also found himself wishing they weren’t standing in a fucking airport, surrounded by people who’d probably mind if Grantaire tried to rip Enjolras’ clothes off right here and now.

He eventually pulled away and grabbed the handle of Enjolras’ suitcase. “Ready to go?” Grantaire asked and held out his hand to Enjolras, who took it immediately. “So,” he said, “do you want to go out with me sometime?”

Enjolras laughed. “I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably continue this, it's too cute not to.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> By the way, the song Grantaire plays for Enjolras is called Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie, you should listen to it.


End file.
